The Legend of Zelda: Star of Heroes
by rothwyn
Summary: Hyrule has fallen. The royal family and their greatest champion have been forced to flee their homeland. FINALLY FINISHED!!! Please R&R.
1. Chapter I: The Outcasts

1 The Legend of Zelda: Star of Heroes  
  
Here it is! The long-awaited conclusion to the Heroes Trilogy is ready to be posted. And, judging from the reaction to Heroes of Time and Heroes' Fall, you guys are as ready as you'll get. Remember that I will, as always, ask that anyone who reads this to post comments, criticism, and/or general all-around praise. No flaming please, or you will meet a fate that you could only imagine in your darkest nightmares. I won't tell you anything about it, except that it involves Richard Simmons. Scared already aren't you? (  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Boy, you people must be sick of these by now. Even more reason for me to do them! Well, Heroes' Fall ended on something of a down note, which was really what everybody expected, I think. Link and Zelda are still alive, but the same cannot be said for a lot of other people. If you are trying to read this without reading the other two, don't. It's really important that the previous stories be read first.  
  
Well, I would like to thank all those who posted on my fanfic during the time I was posting new stuff. To name a few: Unknown_Mercenary, HeroofTime861, Ruana, Link863, and gcubeman, and those wonderful folks at fanfiction.net; my sincerest thanks to all of you.  
  
Now, a lot, and I mean a LOT of you said that I should post episodically as opposed to slapping the entire thing on fanfiction.net at once. Well, why the hell not? Star of Heroes will be divided up into five sections or so (I haven't decided yet), and new chapters will come every few days. It does start out kinda slow, but it gets better. I promise.  
  
I would also like to add that this is a work of complete fiction, written solely by me and the little elves that live in my nose. Any and all similarities to persons or events, living or dead, past or present, are merely the outward projections of a seriously disturbed mental state and an overabundance of you being on crack. Message ends.  
  
  
  
"Peace cannot ever be achieved by a mere force of arms. True peace comes from balance within one's self. If you can achieve this, you will know your weaknesses, and can work to use them to your own advantage. For to know the limits of yourself is to know the limits of your opponent."  
  
-Master Jairuss Marto, 841 A.U.  
  
  
  
Link wrapped the cloak tighter around him, head bent against the vicious, howling winds of the northern regions of Aaran. Shaking icy crystal from his blonde hair, he wished desperately that someone would invent some sort of cold-weather garment that actually covered the body adequately, as opposed to parts of it. Behind him, he heard a sharp sneeze, and sighed, the vapor of his breath rising into the cold, dark night sky. Its' going to be a long winter.  
  
The fall had fled from the country of Aaran all to quickly. What had once been relatively pleasant, albeit chilly, weather had turned harsh and frigid in a matter of days following the end of the harvest. Snow crunched wetly under the young man's boots, and the constant sheet of freezing flakes swept into his sharp blue eyes. Zelda sneezed again, and Link slowed his step, placing himself at her side.  
  
"Anything wrong?" he asked, drawing part of his black cloak around her.  
  
"No more than the usual intolerance to such heinous weather," she answered with a small twist of the mouth that passed among the Hylians for a smile these days. "Honestly Link, what makes you think that we'll find anything before night freezes us all?"  
  
"Old warrior's hunch," he said with the same sort of grin. "I can nearly smell the woodfires from here. I just hope they have an inn where they can put up a few weary travelers."  
  
The outcast Princess looked back with a troubled look. "We have dwindled to only a few in the past couple of months haven't we?"  
  
Link nodded. After the disaster on the Steppes of Iaord and the flight from Hyrule, the army had been forced to separate, each man going more or less his own way. Even the violently loyal Sheikah had left the king's side to go their own ways, all save the two most dedicated, Rith and Saral. Weiun Thar, Nabooru, Bridon Girth, the once king Gaerdon, Zelda, Link, and a handful of soldiers were all that remained together of the once- formidable army that had opposed the Coughlians. They had received no word from Raru, Darunia, and the Gorons, the Zora, or the Kokiri of the Forest. It was suspected that they had either fallen or were prisoners, trapped, or driven out of their homes.  
  
The Allies that were at Iaord had suffered losses that were, in hindsight, much less severe than they could have been. Many of those missing had been accounted for, but they had still lost more than half of their fighting force. After the onset of winter, many chose to take up more or less permanent residence in nearby villages in the southern, more temperate regions of Aaran, the country north of the mountains to Hyrule. Others who were of the mind searched out work, something to keep money in pouches for when it was needed, and settled down as well. Only the heroes of the Imprisoning War and three Hylian soldiers, Karron, Portur, and Huff had stayed on the ice-covered roads to Siryn Emroth, said to be the place of the Emrothian Fountains, sustainer of life and cure to all ailments. Link looked down at his left hand, envisioning what he would see if he removed his fur gloves, and shuddered. The blackened mark of the Tri Force of Power had been eating at him bit by bit, and it was only a matter of time before its evil took its toll on him.  
  
Zelda's sky-blue eyes followed the former hero's, and she took his hand gently, stroking it against her cheek. "Don't worry. I'm sure we'll find something."  
  
Link nodded again, shielding his eyes against the storm as he looked ahead into the blizzard. It had been a mere twelve years since he had been summoned by the Great Deku Tree of his Forest home and had been launched into what would become the Imprisoning War, but, though he had spent seven of those years in the Temple of Light, it seemed more like thirty summers since he had been that young. And the years weighed heavily on him. His hair had grown out long, and was held by a leather cord wrapped around his forehead. Though he still retained the youthful handsomeness that he had kept since childhood, most of his innocence was visually contradicted by a long, red scar that ran from his right eyebrow to the left side of his nose. His shoulders, though square and straight, often seemed to bear a great weight, one unsuited to a person so young. However, the most frightening visible attribute about him was his eyes. Icy blue, they looked as though they would rest in the head of a war-weary old man, torn by battle and bereft of friends. Though not often, he though he saw Zelda shiver, not from the cold, when she looked into his soul's twin windows.  
  
Zelda, however, had remained mostly unchanged since their flight from Hyrule. She still managed to mix the friendly charisma with an air of royalty, and was as beautiful as she had been the day Link first met her.  
  
The young man shook his head, blinking against the icy flakes. Either his imagination was acting up, or there were lights up ahead.  
  
"We're coming up on a village!" Nabooru called from his left.  
  
"No more than a quarter mile too," Link agreed. He turned to look at Zelda, a grin on his face that invited mischief. "Are the rest of you ready for a hot meal and a warm bed?"  
  
"Are you sure you can't finagle just one more bed?" Link asked tiredly. The innkeeper had given the same answer five times. He didn't really expect it to change. "We just got off the road, and really need to get some rest tonight."  
  
The balding man behind the half-cleaned counter sighed heavily. "Look sir, it's not jes' my doin'. There's lots o' folk as wants to stay inside on a night such as this, and we're 'bout full up as it is. A pair o' yeh'll have to share a room."  
  
Link licked his lips nervously, and glanced at Zelda at the exact moment that she glanced at him. "That'll have to do then. It will save us some money at any rate."  
  
Zelda smiled at him as they ascended the stairs. "I don't really mind sharing a room with you Link," she said matter-of-factly. "It's not like we weren't planning for this eventuality after all."  
  
The young man shrugged. "I just didn't expect anything like that at all tonight of all times. And I still need to get used to the idea of sharing as much with anyone that I will with you."  
  
The outcast Princess took his hand as they entered the smallish room on the top floor. "I don't think that you're supposed to be used to it." She looked around the abode, taking in the small table, chair, nightstand, and rather large bed. "At least we won't have to worry about one of us falling off," she remarked, pulling off her boots and sitting down on the mattress.  
  
Link turned ruby red around the ears. "I'll, uh. . . just start unpacking then." Removing his cloak, he placed his shield and sword to one side, and pulled off the emerald green tabard on which was emblazoned the crest of the Royal Knights of Hyrule. The same design was graven upon the sword he carried. Not the sacred blade of Hyrule, which had been broken in the Battle of Iaord, but the sword carried by the knights of old. The sword that Link had earned with his own sweat and blood in his one-man crusade during the darkest hours of the Imprisoning War. His fingers ran the length of the sword's hilt, noting the craftsmanship that had gone into the weapon, coming to rest in a one-handed grip that drew the blade from its scabbard.  
  
"Is there something I should know Link?" Zelda asked, her eyes darting from him to the Sword of the Old King that lay near her side of the bed.  
  
"I'm just not going to take any chances after that incident ten days ago," the former hero answered grimly. "You should have your own sword ready as well, just in case."  
  
She nodded, placing the naked blade so that it leaned against the nightstand. "I was wondering-" She stopped abruptly, staring at Link.  
  
The young man looked behind him, a quizzical look on his face, then back at Zelda. "What?" he asked, finishing pulling his tunic over his head and folding it neatly. "What is it?"  
  
It was Zelda's turn to blush. "Nothing," she mumbled, removing her cloak and over-tunic.  
  
"Ahh," Link said with a sly grin as he kicked off his boots and settled himself on the bed next to Zelda. "I guess that that's just another of those thing's we'll have to get used to."  
  
Link stood in front of the window, looking out on the snowy, moonlit landscape. A slight breeze came through the cracked window, slightly ruffling his hair as it passed. The light gray breeches he wore did not provide much protection from the frigid air, but Link would have been wearing a shirt if the cold bothered him at all. As it was, after wandering an icy cavern in nothing thicker than a tunic, cold had never caused the young man much of a problem.  
  
There was a rustle behind him, and the former hero turned his head slightly, and smiled. "I thought you were asleep."  
  
Zelda shrugged, drawing the blanket more tightly around her. "I was, but the bed is colder without you in it. The open window doesn't help either."  
  
Link put an arm around her shoulder, giving her a small kiss on the forehead. "It might also have something to do with the fact that you are only wearing a blanket."  
  
"It just might at that," the younger of the two conceded. "But I don't plan on changing the fact." She snuggled closer to him, leaning her head against his chest. " You're warm enough as it is. Why were you up?"  
  
"I was thinking."  
  
Zelda's eyes drifted automatically to the blackened mark on Link's hand, and the scar on his forehead. "Sometimes I think you spend to much time dwelling on what might happen some day." He felt a slight tingle as her hand caressed the scar tissue on his shoulder. "We all have worries, and regrets. For now, let's just concentrate on the present."  
  
Link let out a small sigh. "You're probably right. I'm sorry if it seems I'm neglecting you. I wish that there was more I could do for you, especially now."  
  
"You are doing fine," she said with a mischievous grin. "But you do need to come back to bed."  
  
"As you wish, my darling," he said, brushing a strand of hair from in front of her eyes. "After all, it would not do to let you freeze to death. Your father would be highly upset with me."  
  
The following morning dawned, but only barely. The thick clouds grudgingly let in only enough light to see for a few hundred feet before the mists of the mountain foothills shrouded everything in a pasty gray. The only sound that penetrated the thick morn was the gentle whisper of a leftover wind from the heights of the mountain peak. Link strained his eyes against the gloom, trying to catch a glimpse of the snowy cap of the earthen behemoth.  
  
Malon would have been able to see through this, or anything else for that matter, he thought bitterly, throwing a glance at Weiun Thar near the back of the line. What I wouldn't give to have her with us. It must be tearing Weiun apart to not have been able to do anything to save her.  
  
It was at the top of Mount Erginald that Siryn Emroth had nestled itself, protected on three sides by sheer cliffs and a sharp drop approaching from the south, assuming the merchant in the last town could be trusted on information more than the value of his goods. If there was any hope of removing the cursed mark from Link's skin, it would rest there.  
  
A slight twitch ran through his left hand, and he flexed the fingers nervously. It had not gotten out of control since the fall of Hyrule, but then, Link had not used a weapon to as great an extent yet as he had then either. It seemed that every time his actions became violent enough, the mark took a stronger hold on him.  
  
The former hero shuddered, not from the cold. The incident at the mountain pass with the rabid bear had nearly sent him to the edge of that precipice, because he had not been prepared for any sort of danger. Zelda had almost died, and it would have been because of him.  
  
That was the one thing above all others that frightened Link about the thing that had infected him; if he turned evil, he would very probably kill her, and he would not have that. He would rather die at her hand than the other way around. And she knew it.  
  
Don't think like that, he told himself firmly. There is still hope. As long as we are alive, we can count on that.  
  
"Sir!" Rith called to him from the line. "Straight up the side of the mountain, what do you see?"  
  
Link paused in the snow and squinted, shielding his eyes from the freezing winds. "It looks like a black smudge against a slightly lighter smudge," he answered.  
  
"Then that means-" the Sheikah broke off, a smile reflected in his eyes.  
  
Link nodded. "Siryn Emroth, or I'm a goat. How long do you think it will take?"  
  
Rith shrugged, but Saral spoke up from his side. "Depending on the winds, anywhere from a day to a week."  
  
Portur frowned through red bangs as he caught up with the others who had stopped on the trail. "A bit risky, isn't it? If we get stuck, we could either freeze or starve to death."  
  
Huff nodded, clapping the other soldier on the shoulder. "Yep. Sounds like fun." He turned to Link. "We start today?"  
  
The young man glanced at Zelda and her father, receiving neutral looks from both, then looked back up the slopes of Mount Erginald. "No time like the present. Let's go."  
  
The winds were not as bad as Link had feared, mostly staying light and high above the travelers' heads. However, the ascent was steep and the footing very treacherous at times. There was a heart-stopping moment when the ice under Karron gave way and she almost plummeted to the bottom of a blackened chasm. A quick leap on her part and a steady hand up on Huff's managed to save her.  
  
Well past midday, Link called the first long halt of their climb, giving time to eat, drink, and, for Huff's part, catch forty winks. Link removed his Knight's Sword from the sheath on his back and began sharpening it with a stone from his bag of holding. Zelda looked up from where she was re-lacing her boot.  
  
"Seems strange to watch you doing that after carrying the Master Sword for so long."  
  
Link flashed her a half-smile. "You forget that before the incident where we had to retrieve the sacred blade, I was carrying a plain steel Hylian Sword. I just have to pick up the old habits. Though," he said, examining the blade with a hint of regret, "it was handy not having to worry about notches in the blade." He sighed inaudibly, and re-sheathed the sword. "I think it's time we got moving again. We don't have any daylight to waste." 


	2. Chapter II: The Master

"You are resilient folk indeed to have made it up the slopes in such short time with such little incident," the watchman said through the paneled looking hole. "If I did not know better, I would say the gods favored you." He gave Link a very piercing stare. "What business brings you to Siryn Emroth?"  
  
Link met his gaze unflinchingly, but kept his hands visible, and empty. "I have come seeking knowledge of the miracles that have been performed here. What other business I have is my own."  
  
The watchman nodded slowly, and unbarred the gate. "Right. There's only one good inn in town, but we don't get many visitors, so I imagine Buttles can house all of you."  
  
"Thank you," said Link, entering after Zelda and her father. The town of Siryn Emroth was not large, but seemed to be, nested as it was against the mountain. One main street ran the length of the town, and along it were all manners of shops, dwellings, and the like, each and every one with locked door and bared shutters.  
  
"I guess they don't appreciate visitors much," Zelda commented, falling back in step with him. "They don't seem very outgoing at least."  
  
"I imagine that they built their village out of the way for some reason," Link said with a shrug. "But I doubt we will learn the reasons from them."  
  
They continued along the avenue, trying not to pay over much attention to the few passersby on the street. Many of the few who were on the streets did not even look at the strangers, let alone welcome them. Link could not blame them.  
  
At the end of the street was a large oaken building, most likely the inn, and beside it was a squat stone structure, steam leaking through breathing holes in the roof.  
  
"Yes, those are the bathing waters of Siryn Emroth," said a voice to the young man's left. "I should warn you however, not to get your hopes up as far as its powers are concerned. It will take more than hot water to heal the wound you carry, Sir Link."  
  
Link turned sharply, hand reaching for the dagger hidden in the small of his back. Facing him was a tall man about ten years Gaerdon's senior, with a gray beard and long, ragged hair. His eyes were of blazing sapphire, and he was clad only in a storm gray robe that reached his feet, both sandaled in some style Link had not seen before. His hands were clasped behind his back in a carelessly observant sort of way, and his face held a mixture of wisdom and curiosity.  
  
The younger man frowned, moving his hand away from the concealed weapon. He would wager from the way the man held himself that he knew enough of weapons to recognize hiding places when he saw them. "Who are you?" Link asked carefully, realizing belatedly that he was speaking fluent cliché. "And how do you know my name, and about my. . . my condition?"  
  
"Your name has been known to me for many years," the old man answered, folding his arms across his chest. "The way you move tells me where the cursed wound that you carry is, and my means for knowing both of those is my own. However," he said, what might be a smile crossing his face, "my name is not so guarded. I am Jairuss Marto, hermit and ne'er-do- well of Siryn Emroth." He extended a callused hand to Link, eyebrows raised questioningly.  
  
Link grasped the hand and felt a surprisingly firm grip. "I am Link, orphan, wanderer, and former Royal Knight of Hyrule. Though I'm sure you already knew that."  
  
Jairuss nodded. "I did, but I am glad you see fit to tell me the truth. It speaks well of you, wanderer. Who are your companions?"  
  
Link turned slightly, just realizing that the others had stopped to watch the curious exchange. "The man with the silver hair is King Gaerdon, the young lady at my right his daughter, the Princess Zelda, along with the two Sheikah guards, Rith and Saral. The soldiers are Captain Bridon Girth, Lieutenant Weiun Thar, Sergeant Jak Portur, Corporal Lynn Karron, and Private Horindius Corruff."  
  
"Just Huff, if you please," the private said with a slight bow.  
  
Jairuss nodded appreciatively, and turned back to Link. "Why did you introduce yourself as a former Knight, but used the titles for the King and the Princess?"  
  
Link glanced down, shame washing over him. "I have fallen from that position. I failed the King and the Princess at the Battle of Iaord, and I allowed myself to become infected with a lust for power that could lead to my, and their destruction." He knew that Zelda, her father, and the others would object, but there was no changing the fact that he had failed his duty. "I am no longer a knight, merely a warrior who wishes to continue to protect those he cares for."  
  
"You are wrong on both counts," the strange man said severely. "You are not a true warrior, not yet at any rate. And simply because you failed once does not remove the responsibility of knighthood from your shoulders. That is something that can only be lost through great evil and dissent." His face warmed again, the almost-smile returning. "But the cold of the outdoors on a day such as this is not the setting for such talk. Come inside, and we will discuss much more."  
  
Jairuss's house was a fairly small affair, but, surprisingly, all of the travelers fitted comfortably inside it. Across the door was the entryway to the kitchen, and to the right a set of stairs leading up. The large room they entered contained a fireplace, a large log already blazing, and simple but homely furniture. The air smelled faintly of birch and nutmeg, and the smoky scent of burning cedar.  
  
"I do not want to intrude sir," Link said, declining the seat the older man offered him. "But I must ask a question of you."  
  
Jairuss arched a single eyebrow, motioning Link to continue.  
  
"Well, you said that the waters of Siryn Emroth will not cure my curse."  
  
"That is correct," the old man said. "The waters have neither the potency nor the strength to heal that wound."  
  
Link's face fell. "Then. . . have you any idea of what could? I must find a way to lift this, or my homeland is doomed to an eternity of tyranny and darkness."  
  
Jairuss was a very long time in answering, and when he did, he did not meet the younger man's eyes. "I regret to tell you that there is not cure for the blackened mark on your hand. I searched far when I learned of your eventual arrival, but to no avail." He lifted his gaze, meeting Link's and his eyes were sad. "I am truly sorry Link. It is unjust that one of your character should carry this burden."  
  
The former hero heaved a great sigh, and his shoulders seemed to sag greatly, a weight nearly getting the better of him. "You are certain of this?" he asked listlessly.  
  
"Yes," came the answer. "But even in the darkest hour there is still a speck of light. You cannot remove this curse, by no means mortal at any rate. It is your destiny that this thing shall grow in strength, and it will take hold. However," he continued, "though you cannot avoid your fate, you can rise to meet it." The old man clapped a hand on Link's shoulder, his face softening. "I do not often judge people wrong, Sir Link. If I am right in my guesses of you, and if you are willing to work harder than you have ever before, there may be a fighting chance that Hyrule will not have to face the darkness for long."  
  
Hope made its way cautiously into Link's eyes, but his face was still downcast. "How do you mean?"  
  
"It is only a theory, mind you," Jairuss continued. "And it will take a test to prove, but it is possible that you have not yet unlocked what may be the greatest secret within you. I do not force nor even advise that you undergo such a test, but it is the last hope you have for victory."  
  
Link hesitated, but for only the shortest moment that one could perceive. "What must I do?"  
  
Equal parts of pain and joy washed over the old man's face, and he squeezed Link's shoulder. "Follow me out of the back door, alone, and I will show you." Abruptly, he turned, and strode to the back of the house, leaving the door open as he vanished into the white beyond.  
  
"Link," Zelda said, drawing close beside him, "are you sure you know what you're doing. I know you have faced and conquered hardships before, but this is something that seems too desperate, yet not enough for you to die for it."  
  
"And I will not," Link answered easily, removing his fur gloves. "I will come back with a way to beat the Coughlians, and we will do it together." He gave her a quick kiss on the crown of her head, and vanished as well through the door.  
  
What meet Link as he stepped through the door was nearly beyond description, so great was its beauty and awe. White it was, clear as crystal yet as obscuring as the thickest morning fog. In between the tendrils of iridescence, there could be seen towering pillars of hewn white crystal, reaching up into the infinite heights of the realm. Link felt his jaw drop, and stared transfixed at what could be called nothing remotely like a room. So rapt was he that he nearly failed to see the figure, white upon white, wisps of a beard floating about his head.  
  
"Welcome, Sir Link, to the Realm of Solitude. In this place, there is no evil, no good, no hate, and no joy, save that which you bring here yourself. What you will face, I do not know, but it could easily destroy you if I am wrong about your abilities. I must once again remind you that he door out is open, and I will not fault you for leaving."  
  
Link tried to speak, couldn't, and simply shook his head resolutely.  
  
Jairuss nodded. "Very well, Sir Link. The test begins now. Good luck." With a sound of an exhaled breath, the figure vanished.  
  
Leaving Link alone, save the emptiness that had a presence of its own. Shapes swirled in the mists, taking forms both familiar and alien alike. Some shied away from the man in emerald green and pitch black. The travel cloak weighed heavily on him, and he wanted to cast it aside, but did not, drawing it closer to him to hide the sight and mask the sound as the broad sword of a Hylian Knight rasped from its scabbard.  
  
Suddenly, one of the shadows made a lunge for him, a piece of it solidifying into a blade that swept toward the former hero. Link arched his back sharply, feeling the air on his face as the blade passed over his head. Twisting to the side, he thrust his right hand onto the cold floor and pushed sharply, launching him into the air. His sword flew toward the Shadow, but never reached it. The thing was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.  
  
Landing heavily on his feet, Link looked around furiously for the thing, but to no avail. So he waited.  
  
He did not have to wait long.  
  
At least half a dozen of the shadowy creatures hurtled from the mists, horrible screams coming from their hidden maws. Each brandished weapons that could change at the blink of an eye, swinging them with a force that would have cloven Link in two. Duck, leap, parry, the former hero had no time to strike back, focusing all his efforts in avoiding the deadly Shadows. Black darts flew from one to his left, and he leapt into the air twisting to his right as the missiles tracked him. One speed at his neck, unavoidable even if Link had not been helpless in the air. Leaning back in the air as far as he could, he reached out a hand, hoping to deflect it or impale his arm rather than his throat. To his surprise, his fingers closed about the dart, and as he finished his turn, landing the flip on two feet and a hand, he hurled the dart at the Shadow nearest him. The thing had not the time to dodge, and fell.  
  
The others screeched horribly, and launched themselves at him. Again, all of Link's energy was fully devoted to staving off the vicious attacks as the Shadows fell upon him. He struck and dodged, turned, leapt, and parried, but to no avail. He could not gain the upper hand.  
  
Link frowned momentarily. What was it Jairuss had said? In this place, there is not evil, no good, no hate, and no joy, save that which you bring here yourself.  
  
Then I must not concentrate upon defeating them, he thought, but subduing the evil within me. I must calm myself, I must keep my emotions from taking over, and I must not give into the lust for power, no matter what it may be used for.  
  
The former hero took a deep breath, lowering his blade. The Shadows paused. If they had faces, there would have surely been looks of utter puzzlement upon them. However, this lasted only for a moment, and they attacked again. However, this time, Link was ready.  
  
Sword still lowered, the young man leapt into the air, the Shadows passing harmlessly beneath. Even as they turned their ferocity upward to strike at him, he twisted, and landed a back flip behind them, foot whipping out clockwise to sweep them from the floor. They landed heavily, hissing curses issuing from them as they struggled to rise again. One made it to its feet, but Link downed it again with a roundhouse punch to the. . . to its head region. Others followed, but he struck them down, delivering blows to them, ducking, leaping, striking with fist and boot. The Shadows hissed and screamed, trying to regain their ground, but the former hero had tapped into something, something that gave him an edge he had never felt before. It was complete exhilaration, a feeling of warmth and comfort coursing through him, but not feeding off of his anger, or his fear. It was like the feeling he had when he first realized he loved Zelda, and when she came back to him when he thought he had lost her forever. The Shadows never stood a chance. They were felled for a final time, then slunk off into the mists of the Realm of Solitude.  
  
Link watched them go. Any one of them had been a tougher foe than the creatures that had guarded the Temple of the Ages all those years ago, but he had defeated them all. And with out striking once with his blade.  
  
"Well done Sir Link," came Jairuss's voice as he appeared from the mists. "You passed the test with flying colors. I could not had expected better."  
  
"Thank you," Link said tentatively, somewhat startled by his victory. "I must admit that I am curious as to how I did that. There was never a time before the fall of Hyrule when I could have succeeded against such adversaries. What gave me the edge to overcome them now?"  
  
"It has to do with who you are," the old man answered, leading the way to a previously non-existent pair of stools, where he motioned Link to sit. "And where you come from. You see, there used to be a race of people that lived here in Siryn Emroth. They were very strange, old and few even when I came was born, and that was a very long time ago. They did not know much of a world without war, without pain, and they had trained themselves for it. They unlocked something, deep in these mountains, something that gave them a crucial edge over their enemies. They could do things that should have been impossible, that only they could perform. I was born among them, one of the last, and I learned their ways, their methods, their talent. They drew peace to themselves, forsaking the negative emotions of anger and ruthlessness, the ways of war and wonton bloodshed, and concentrated on their beings.  
  
"They sought out their peace within themselves, and then brought it about in the physical world. They did not war for lands, riches, nor power, but for the well being of their families and loved ones. They lived here in safety for innumerable years, letting those who needed shelter find it here. However," he added darkly, "their enemies were too many, and they too few. They were driven and all but destroyed. Barely any survived those dark days, and many of those who did left here." He paused, his eyes meeting Link's in a sidelong glance. "One of those who did was a woman, blonde of hair and heavy with child. She fled south, but all she found when she got there was a war as fierce as the one she ran from. We never heard from her again."  
  
"My mother," Link said, his throat tight. All he knew of her was that she had entered the Kokiri Forest, sorely wounded, and begged the Great Deku Tree to care for her child. "She died before I was even a year old," he said softly. "I can't remember anything of her."  
  
"I am sorry Link," said Jairuss, rising from his stool. "I know it's a lot to take in, and I know you don't need any more worries, not now. However, you are not alone." The old man gave him the first smile Link had seen on his face. "I can teach you what I learned all those years ago. That is, if you are willing to learn."  
  
Link stood, drawing himself up to his full height. Though he was tall, Jairuss still dwarfed him. "I am willing to go through any trial if it means finding a way to save my homeland. Or, Zelda's homeland."  
  
The old man nodded. "Good. We will start tomorrow. I suggest that you get some early sleep tonight, for it will be a long day when dawn comes."  
  
The morning dawned clear, cold, and windy. Luckily for Link and Zelda, they had been able to spend the night in a warm bed and out of the chill. Still, the Princess turned slightly and mumbled something about cold air getting in as Link crept from the mattress.  
  
"I'm sorry dear heart," he whispered as he pulled his tunic over his head. "But I have a lot to do today, and if things work out, we will be able to go home."  
  
The young man stepped into the frigid mountain air, wrapping his black cloak tighter around him, wincing as the snow began bite into his face and eyes. Jairuss had told him to look for him early and farther down the avenue of Siryn Emroth. Apparently, there was a cave farther up the mountain that would serve better than the house as a training area. Link looked around him again, striving to catch sight of the old man through the rising storm. It was a fairly useless gesture, as visibility was rapidly becoming less than fifteen feet.  
  
"Sir Link!" came a voice over the din of the howling wind. "Over here!"  
  
The young man turned sharply, and a figure stood before him, just visible through the sheets of snow.  
  
"It is time, sir knight," he said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "If you would see what fate has in store for you, we must ascend the mountain and enter the Caves."  
  
"I am ready," Link said, gesturing to the sword and shield strapped on his back, but Jairuss shook his head.  
  
"You will not need those. Today, we learn, not practice. That will come later. Now, follow me, and we shall climb."  
  
And climb they did. For what seemed like hours they fought the elements and struggled their way up the steep slope. But however much Link exerted himself, no matter how much effort he put into this task, Jairuss managed to easily stay ahead, and even move farther up the mountainside. The old man contained an incredible resilience for one who seemed to ancient, and he continued to impress Link, even as he vaulted up the last ledge, not even short of breath.  
  
"Is this. . .it then?" Link panted.  
  
Jairuss nodded, stepping forward toward the unmarred face of the mountainside. "This is the entrance to the Caves. Please, stand back."  
  
He lifted his arms, and closed his eyes. They flicked back and forth beneath closed lids as he muttered words in an unknown language. The winds seemed to pick up, and the snow blew toward the cliff face, the flakes sticking to the stone. After a moment, the now could be seen creating an ancient-looking doorway. Then, the winds died down as suddenly as they had arisen, and the entryway could be seen, outlined in pearly white.  
  
"Come Sir Link," Jairuss said, motioning the younger man to his side. "Enter with me the Caves of Emroth."  
  
The two strode to the door, and with a wave of Jairuss's hand, the stone grated, parted, and swung open on unseen hinges. As they entered, the wind died completely, the snow fell from them, and, despite the fact that he bore no weapons, Link felt incredibly weighed down and warm.  
  
The caves stretched out in front of them, a cavernous expanse that retreated farther back than Link could have imagined the mountain could go. The walls curved upward, sweeping toward the ceiling covered in stalactites. Sparkles from the walls denoted the presence of several different types of precious gems. The young man could not stop staring.  
  
"It is quite a sight, isn't it?" the old man asked with a warm smile. "This is the final sanctuary that the warriors held against their enemies when all hope was lost. It is also the place where I learned to unlock my abilities, when I was about your age."  
  
"Zelda would love it," Link said. Though the place must have seen pain and death over the years, there was a tangible sense of warmth to the air of the caves. Something that told him that he had found a true sanctuary, one that would never fall to evil, but would endure through the ages. "It is beautiful."  
  
"Yes. Which means we are off to a good start already." 


	3. Chapter III: A Hero's Training

"You're only going to succeed in this trial if you do not let your physical presence obstruct your perception." Jairuss lowered his practice sword, shaking his head. "You cannot allow your senses to control your actions. If you do, you are doomed to failure."  
  
Link frowned, beginning the long walk to his own practice sword, stuck point down in the cave floor. "Then how can I know what to expect from my opponent. I've always relied on my vision, hearing, my touch as well as intuition to study them, to learn their techniques and weaknesses. How can I disregard all that?"  
  
"As easily as you learned it," the master said lightly.  
  
"It wasn't easy at all," said Link pulling at the blade. "It took me years and years of practice and many battles to get as good as I thought I was." The sword remained firmly in the dirt and rock.  
  
"I never said the training would be easy, Sir Link," the old man said with a shrug, striding towards him. "Nothing worth doing is ever easy."  
  
"I know Master Jairuss." Link sighed heavily, sitting hard on the stone floor. "But, you had me without a blade for a week in this place, and when we start sparring, you tell me I need to relearn swordsmanship."  
  
"Yes." The older man sat down beside Link, giving him a patient look. "And what did you learn when you did not have a blade to use against the evils of the world?"  
  
"I learned how to control my emotions, how to not let anger and aggression get the better of me in a fight, and how to channel my positive energy into battle." The young man frowned. "But how did that tell me how to use a sword any different from how I have before?"  
  
Jairuss smiled. "Exactly. You are just thinking down the wrong lines. Peace cannot ever be achieved by a mere force of arms. True peace comes from balance within one's self." He gestured at Link's scar, and the young man understood. "If you can achieve this, you will know your weaknesses, and can work to use them to your own advantage." He reached over to the practice sword, pulling easily out of the ground. "For to know the limits of yourself is to know the limits of your opponent."  
  
Link smiled, taking back the sword. "I see. So, according to that theory, I could disarm you without even raising this blade."  
  
"That could be stretching it a bit," Jairuss said with a short laugh. "But you are welcome to try."  
  
Link stood, his cloak cast aside, hands empty and relaxed, facing Jairuss Marto, dirt streaking his face. He was bruised, scraped, and the Master's sword was pointed at his throat, the tip quavering just barely under his chin. But still, a smile adorned his lips.  
  
"You tried too hard too soon, and reached for too much," the old man said, shaking his head. "You cannot do so much with so little training. It has still been less than a month, yet you do not pace yourself. You must learn patience."  
  
"I have learned patience, Master," Link said easily, never breaking eye contact with Jairuss. "And I know exactly what I'm going to do to take that sword from your hands."  
  
At this, the old man raised a snow-white eyebrow. "And jut how, exactly, are you going to do that?"  
  
The smile grew even wider. "Like this." Spinning sharply on his heel, Link leapt into the air, sailing over the Master's head. He was ducking the swing he knew would come even as he landed, and swept his foot in an attempt to take Jairuss's legs out from under him. But the old man was too fast. He too jumped over the blow, and swung the practice blade sharply at the side of Link's head in a blow that would have laid him on the ground had he not bent over back wards to avoid it. The old man struck again and again, and each time he came closer to making contact, but still Link stayed untouched.  
  
However, he was being backed up farther and farther towards the wall of the Caves, and fast running out of room. It was when his back was against the stone and the Jairuss had raised the blade for a final blow that he saw his chance.  
  
The old man launched the blade forward with all of his strength and speed, giving the younger man no chance of dodging the blow. At least, he would not have had a chance three weeks ago. As it was, Link had indeed learned a great deal from his training, and he put it to good use. Even as Jairuss was striking, the former hero latched onto his wrist with one hand leapt lightly up so that his feet pressed against the wall. As the sword flew forward, he twisted to his left, letting the point slip by his right ear, and launched himself from the wall straight into Jairuss center of mass. He hit hard, causing the Master to fly backward, even as Link plucked the practice sword from his hand.  
  
Jairuss landed on his back, winded, but otherwise unhurt. He smiled up at Link as the younger man pressed the blade gently against his throat.  
  
"That was very good Sir Link," he said, nodding in satisfaction. "Better, in fact, than I could have expected from anyone, especially you. I think that there is little now standing in your way to your goal, save yourself."  
  
"What does that mean, Master?" Link asked, standing and helping the older man up as well.  
  
"Only that we will spar once again, and then we shall see what more I can teach you, if anything." He bent to retrieve the other practice blade, and held it vertically with the hilt level with his chest in the warrior's salute. "Have at, Knight of Hyrule."  
  
Link inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again, and closed his eyes. If I must not let my senses muddle my ability to fight, he thought, then I will not use them. He shut his ears, let his mind slip and, in his mind's eye, saw only himself and Jairuss. It was less than a minute before he held the older man's sword in his hand.  
  
"That, my boy, was possibly the most incredible feat of physical performance and swordsmanship that I have seen in all these long years, ever since your mother left."  
  
The young man's eyes widened. "My mother could use a sword?"  
  
Jairuss nodded. "One of the best in the world. It was a sad day when she left. With her, we might have held just a little longer."  
  
Link nodded. "Thank you. So, did I pass the test?"  
  
"With flying colors. I don't think there is anything more that I can teach you now. The rest, you must learn on your own."  
  
"In that case," said Link fastening his cloak, "I think it is time I went back down the mountain, and told Zelda and the rest that it is time to go back."  
  
Zelda drew the stone across the runed blade of her sword, tuning the perfect edge it carried already. It was really little more than a pointless motion, but it was habit after so many years, and at least it kept her mind busy.  
  
Most of the time.  
  
However, there were times when nothing could keep her from thinking overmuch. Of many things. It had been the better part of a month since Link had began his training, rarely even coming down from the mountain, let alone staying as long as Zelda would have liked. But then, it was necessary that he learn how to control his newfound abilities. And himself.  
  
Zelda shuddered, and the whetstone skittered sharply across the edge of the Sword of the Old King. She knew that Link would fall upon his own blade rather than risk losing control, and that scared her more than anything. No matter what he said, no matter how modest Link was, there would never be anyone, not in a hundred years, capable of winning against the forces of Korvin Ralkeen.  
  
And if he was lost to them, it would only be a matter of time before the remnants of the Hyrule Resistance were hunted down and killed.  
  
"Your Royal Highness?" Huff said, sitting down next to her. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Zelda clenched her fist, and the shaking stopped. "No Huff. I'm just thinking, that's all."  
  
"About Sir Link," he said, nodding understandingly. "I wouldn't worry about him, Your Highness. He's been in worse scrapes than this, and I haven't seen him come out on bottom yet."  
  
"When has Hyrule been in more dire straights than this?" Zelda asked sharply. "This isn't a fight anymore; we lost."  
  
"I'd have said the same thing about the Imprisoning War," Huff said quietly. "And that was a slaughter. Then, it was him against an entire kingdom, almost no other help. I can't begin to count those of evil that fell to his sword, and this time, he at least has us." The soldier grinned broadly. "Whatever use we may be."  
  
Zelda nodded. "Those were dark times. And I want our people to never have to live through the likes of them again."  
  
"They won't," came a familiar voice from the door. "Not for much longer at any rate."  
  
Zelda turned, and saw, swathed in a black cloak with his Hylian Broadsword at his side, Sir Link, Knight of Hyrule.  
  
"Sir Link!" Portur exclaimed, poking his head out from upstairs. "You're back!"  
  
Karron followed him down, a smile creasing a face unused to such an expression. The others appeared from other parts of the house, each shaking his hand in turn. Even Nabooru gave the young man a crooked smile.  
  
"Well," she remarked, "the knight has returned, but is he ready to lay siege to his own castle?"  
  
"He is no longer a mere Knight," said Jairuss, stepping out from behind Link, "he is a true Warrior, born and trained to fight the evil without, and the evil within."  
  
Link nodded once, and stepped toward Zelda, embracing her warmly. "I think that it is time to return, and to take back our Kingdom."  
  
King Gaerdon clapped him heartily on the back. "Well spoken my boy. We leave at once."  
  
"Not quite," said Jairuss, holding up a hand. "There is something that requires your joint attention. Come with me, and Sir Link?"  
  
"Yes Master?" the younger man said, looking slightly perplexed.  
  
"You will need the shards of the Master Sword. It is high time it was made to fight again."  
  
Link followed the old man out of the door, and into the cold of the mountain village. He led them to the center of the little hamlet, towards the blacksmith's shop, where Hergid, a man tall and rough of face labored over the forge.  
  
"My friend," Jairuss greeted the enormous man as they clasped hands. "They are bound for their homeland. Is it ready?"  
  
The blacksmith nodded, wiping grime from his forehead with one heavy hand. "Aye, 'tis. Hardest metal I've ever had ta shape, it was. But the blade is one that will'nae break for a long time ta come." He strode to the back of the shop, and returned a moment later with a long wrapping of dirty cloth, which he handed to Link.  
  
"That there is all that's left of the Great Steel used by Master Jairuss's people. There was just enough there to make a final blade with, and what a final work it was."  
  
Link unwrapped the cloth carefully, stripping away the layers with growing anticipation. When the cloths were on the floor, he held a gleaming sword blade, long and well balanced, glittering a blue-silver in the mountain sun. Upon its surface was a single marking: the golden triangles of the Tri Force.  
  
"Is this. . .?" Link tried to say more, but his throat caught, tongue tripping over itself.  
  
"It is the makings of a sword," Jairuss replied. "A very special sword, a sacred sword, but a sword nonetheless. And Hergid will need the shards of the Master Sword to complete it."  
  
Link nodded listlessly, handing the shattered remains of Hyrule's Sacred Blade to the towering smith. Hergid smiled, and began his work. The hammer rang through the mountain, a steady beat to a tune that only the smith knew, and used to shape the two weapons into a single entity. One that would stand to anything Hyrule or the realms outside could ever offer. When he was finished, he handed it back to Link.  
  
The young warrior looked at it in awe, letting his hands wander over the perfect weapon. The hilt and quillions were the same as they had been the day he had pulled the sacred blade from the pedestal at the Temple of Time, but the blade, though the same shape and weight as it had been before, seemed even brighter, sharper, more deadly, than he remembered.  
  
"I trust you will use it well, Sir Link," Jairuss said gravely. "It has been remade to serve the interests of peace, not war and battle. Remember the differences between the two."  
  
Link smiled. "I will. And I will likewise always remember you, Master Jairuss." He encircled the old man in a gruff embrace. "It has been an honor to learn from you."  
  
"It has been my honor to learn from you." The old warrior smiled brightly. "We will await the tales of you victory, Knight of Hyrule."  
  
The younger man nodded, and shook hands with Hergid, wincing inwardly at the big man's grip. "I will miss you. Farewell." He slid the reforged Master Sword into its sheath, let out a sigh of contentment, and began the long journey south, towards the land his beloved called home. 


	4. Chapter IV: Reunion

Link paused, feet crunching half-melted snow as his breath steamed from his mouth, floating away on the northern winds. Before him lay the lower valleys, the beginnings of the entrance to the land of Hyrule, and the armies of the Divinity of Coughl. It would still be many days before he or any of the others could feel the Hylian sun on their faces, but, staring over the mountains to the south, and to the plains, spring beginning to kiss their edges, Link felt a little piece of home.  
  
Adopted home, he corrected himself bitterly. My real home is left behind, abandoned for the sake of the quest. A quest that never should have been mine.  
  
Zelda and her father paused just behind him, and he could feel the patience they had etched on their faces, waiting for his decision. My decision, he thought. Will I doubt myself again, so close when so many things count on swift judgement? He sighed heavily. Din, give me strength.  
  
"Link?" Zelda asked tentatively, "is something wrong?"  
  
The young warrior shook his head. "No. I'm just thinking about what happens next. We need to rally those that remain of our army, and gain others who would follow." He turned, addressing the others who had gathered, shifting every so often to keep warm. "I think it is time we split up, if only for a while. There are many who should know of the Master Sword's reforging, and we do not have the time to get to all of them in turn. Therefore, I would ask that Captain Bridon Girth head southwest to gather those of his horsemen that will still fight. And that Dame Nabooru go to the southeast, to tell the Gerudos that they may finally get to go home, if they wish."  
  
The two nodded, saluting, though the Gerudo Chieftain's was wry and nearly mocking. Link smiled.  
  
"Remind them, however, that they will not be forced to leave their new lives. I do not wish to disrupt them, or to cause more strife. Merely spread the word, and see who will fight."  
  
Nabooru frowned. "What if it turns out that we are too few to oppose the Coughlians? Will we give up?"  
  
"Never," Link answered with such conviction that it startled the Gerudo warrior. "We will not give up, no matter how bad things may seem. There will always be those who will fight." He turned to Weiun Thar, a shadow passing briefly over his face. "Weiun, my friend, you and I and the rest shall go southward, to the village of Harkhil. Let us see if there are any of our men who will take up the sword for their old lieutenant."  
  
The younger man nodded once, his face stony and his movements automatic. Link cursed inwardly. Weiun had been much the same in the past few months, eating and sleeping out of need more than want, and he had not spoken more than a few sentences since the death of Malon. It was yet another reminder, Link thought, of what would happen to him if Zelda were to fall. A reminder of what he would become. For, training aside, he did not trust himself completely. There was still something dark, brooding, waiting for its chance.  
  
The warrior shook his head vehemently, trying to banish the dark thoughts. There was the task to do, and that was what the focus should be.  
  
"Right," he continued. "We'll meet in Harkhil in two weeks. With any luck, we will proceed from there to Hyrule, to win it back from the Coughlians." He looked around the hard-edged fighters, the King, the Princess, the Shiekah, and smiled. "We can win this one; I can feel it."  
  
There was no cheering, no crying, little emotion at all. There was only determination, and a will to come out the victors. Girth and Nabooru departed, heading towards their waiting followers, and Link and the others began south, down the road to Hyrule. Link only wished he felt as though he was going home.  
  
Weiun glanced briefly around as they entered the town of Harkhil, taking in all there was to see upon entering the foothill village.  
  
Which, to be honest wasn't much.  
  
Harkhil was one of the smaller towns north of the Hyrule border, which, again, was not saying much. The only truly large settlement Weiun had seen up north had been on the way to Siryn Emroth, higher up, and considerable colder.  
  
However, Harkhil was where a good number of the former Hyrule Guard had settled down, and where their little group had decided to stash their horses when they began the journey farther north.  
  
Link tapped Weiun on the shoulder, helping bring him back to the present. "You want to get the horses, or should I?"  
  
"Go ahead," the younger man said with a wave of his hand. "Epona will be happier to see you than me, and you seem to have a talent for horses in general. I'll see if any of the others are still around."  
  
Link nodded. "Right. I'll be in the stables." With a slight ruffle of his black cloak, he strode away.  
  
Weiun headed toward the Old Crow, a tavern he rather enjoyed at the other end of the day. The company of some of the frequenters was a welcome sight to the soldier, but not as much as the bartender who was ready with a glass of strong spirits even as Weiun walked in the door. He accepted the drink gratefully, and took a table in the far corner of the room.  
  
"Well, well, look who it is!" came a familiar voice to his left. "Weiun Thar, come back from the mountain. Ready to take Hyrule back by storm are we?"  
  
Weiun half-smiled wearily at Ingo, raising his glass. "Not quite yet. Link, the royals, and I are here to scare up a few volunteers to go back with us. I don't expect you're interested."  
  
Ingo made a sour face, which Weiun did not think was brought on completely by alcohol. "I've got a life for myself here, Weiun. It may not be much of one, but I was never much good as a fighter, or a ranch hand for that matter. I wish you luck, but I'll stay." He raised his own glass. "I certainly hope you have better fortune this time."  
  
"I'll drink to that," Weiun replied emphatically, downing his whiskey.  
  
Which he nearly spewed back up as a thunderous crash echoed through the tavern, toppling those closest to the doors. Weiun stared for a moment, then sprinted forward, sword already in hand, toward the source of the. . .whatever it was.  
  
It turned out to be a rather large band of very disgruntled soldiers. What first caught his attention was that they were having trouble forming ranks against a green and black whirlwind that ate at their flanks. The second thing was that they were Coughlian soldiers. Which just made it all the more enjoyable when Weiun first closed in with them, steel clashing on steel.  
  
There were not many at all; perhaps twenty, perhaps a few more, but they were far outnumbered in Harkhil. Not all of the villagers could use a weapon with the finesse and talent of the Hero of Time, but then, considering their advantage in numbers, they didn't really need to. Weiun caught glimpses of men and women wielding tools and crude weapons against the soldiers. The Coughlians were too dumbstruck by the ferocity of their intended prey, that when Link – for the green and black whirlwind was no other – closed with them, they were at a loss. Weiun stopped and stared as the Knight struck at the invaders, his sword licking out, in, back, up, down and around in the blink of an eye. There was not the contorted strain and anger on his face that Weiun was used to. He did not shout or cry. Sir Link made no sound at all, merely meting out retribution to any who did not give way before him.  
  
And that number got very few very quick.  
  
In the end, it was Link himself who chased the last of the invaders from the crumpled gates, and back towards Hyrule; all four of them.  
  
He returned, not weary, worn, clutching his left hand in pain only to reveal that the mark had grown, but tall, determined, with a hand that showed only a hint of back around the edges. He approached Weiun, his face grim, but a glint in his eye.  
  
"It is begun," he said at last. "There is no more running for us. If we do not attack and drive them back, they will hunt us down and murder us in our sleep." He clapped the soldier on the shoulder, and grinned. "I will tell the others when they arrive. It seems that there are some from the village who wish to speak with you."  
  
Weiun turned, seeing the faces of those who had fought the Coughlians, all looking angry and defiant of those who had dared to try to take what was theirs. The young man smirked inwardly. He did not doubt that more than a few would approach the Hylians about at least temporary subscription.  
  
Which was undoubtedly why Link had told him to wait.  
  
Later, Weiun ran his hand through his midnight hair, giving a snorted laugh. There were indeed many who wanted to help the Hylian army now that the Coughlians had attacked the village. Most of the soldiers who had fought at the Stand the previous year had gladly decided to help. If their luck held, it would be possible to attack the Coughlians on their own ground, and win.  
  
Readjusting the sword slung across his back, Weiun sat heavily on a pile of loose timber from the broken gate. It was still early in the afternoon, and he watched as the sun crept slowly toward the horizon to the west. It was not the first sunset he had watched alone since Malon's death, but it was one of the more painful. She always did love the colors the sun made when it hit the clouds just so.  
  
"Excuse me sir," said a voice tentatively from behind him, "are you alright? You seem wounded."  
  
"Oh no," Weiun said waving a hand dismissively as he turned to face his inquirer. "It's just a tear in the fabric; didn't break the skin. But thank you for your concer-" he stopped dead as he came face to face with the woman.  
  
"Are you sure you're not hurt sir?" she asked. "You look pale."  
  
Weiun wagged his jaw, trying unsuccessfully to form words. One finally escaped his lips: "Malon?"  
  
She cocked her head. "How do you know my name?"  
  
The young man was on his feet in an instant, his arms around his wife in a warm embrace. "I can't believe you're here! I thought – I thought you were dead, and I had given up. . . How did you survive? How did you get here? I'm so glad you're alright."  
  
"Well," she said, returning the embrace tentatively, "I am certainly touched by your concern, but where did you hear my name? Have we met before?"  
  
The full effect of the question took a moment to register. When it did, it felt as though the mountain had fallen on him. "You. . . you don't remember me?"  
  
She shook her head. "I am very sorry, but I am rather new here. Perhaps you confused me with someone else."  
  
He looked at her again. At her flaming red hair, the shine of her green eyes, the pink scar that ran along her cheek, a mark of a Coughlian sword. It was indeed Malon, his wife, back from the dead, and she did not know him.  
  
Zelda was not at all surprised at Link's recount of the attack on the village. He told her that, yes, there had been Coughlian soldiers, yes, he had joined the fight, no he had not experienced pain in his left hand, and that he did not think they would be back, thank you very much.  
  
She sighed at his matter-of-factness. "I suppose that, no matter what, no matter how much time passes, there are some things that never change."  
  
Link frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
She laughed lightly, something she had done none too often of late. "I mean that there are some things about you that have not changed since you were but ten. You never have been one to talk of yourself heroically, or to express overmuch concern for your own safety, though I know better."  
  
The warrior shrugged. "I guess not. But then, I can say much the same of you."  
  
It was the princess's turn to frown. "I hadn't really thought about it, but yes, I suppose so."  
  
Link smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "Well, in any case, I have to saddle Epona. She seemed happy enough to see me; I just hope she doesn't change her mind when I show up with a halter and bridle."  
  
Zelda put her arm around his shoulders as they headed toward the stables. "That mare loves you more than anything else in the world. I don't think a bit of leather and iron will change that."  
  
They never had a chance to reach the stables. Before they had even passed through the Town Square, a voice called out to them, beckoning them toward the Old Crow. It was Weiun, and there was a familiar looking woman at his side.  
  
"Sir Link," he called, running towards the warrior, "she's alive. She's really alive."  
  
"What?" Link asked, dumbfounded. "Who are you talking abou-" and he stopped short. Malon was standing in front of him, a curious expression on her face. His face split into a smile, and he threw his arms around her. "It's good to see you again."  
  
"Well, thank you," she said. "I must say, I have had a rather peculiar day. You are the second stranger to hug me in less than an hour."  
  
Link blinked. Frowned. Blinked again. And his mouth his the ground. "You. . . you don't remember me, do you?"  
  
She shook her head. "I am afraid not, though the two of you seem to think we have met somewhere. I must say, there is something somewhat familiar about you, but I cannot place it."  
  
"She has lost her memories," Zelda said, looking closer at the red- haired woman. "I've seen it before, sometimes after battle, sometimes after trauma. There is a blankness behind the eyes. She has no knowledge of anything that involves you two, not anymore."  
  
"Will she ever?" Weiun asked frantically. "How long has it lasted? Can the memories return? What can we do?"  
  
"Not much now," the princess replied. "There is a great deal we need to know."  
  
Link sat next to Zelda at the long table, the King on his other side, and the soldiers, Weiun, Girth, Nabooru, and the Shiekah seated in various chairs and stools arranged about the table at the now empty Old Crow.  
  
"Well," King Gaerdon said at last. "Things could be better, but then again, they could be a damn sight worse."  
  
"That about sums it up," Link agreed. "We have soldiers, perhaps enough to win, and the Sage of Shadows is still alive, though she most likely cannot help us much."  
  
"How did she survive?" Karron asked from the other end of the table.  
  
"Apparently," Link began, "she got through the rock fall with a bump on the head and a broken arm, and was found by a caravan that usually passes close to the tunnel. She had no memory of where she came from or who she was when they brought her here, and not much has changed."  
  
Portur nodded. "Reasonably, how many able-bodied fighters do we have."  
  
Link gestured to Zelda. "I believe the Princess can answer that question better than I."  
  
Zelda cleared her throat. "Captain Bridon Girth was able to procure most of the former cavalry of the Hylian Army, somewhere around eight thousand strong. Not many of the infantry survived the Battle of Iaord, but most of those who did, about fourteen hundred, have decided to return."  
  
"And the Gerudo?"  
  
Nabooru raised an eyebrow, and Zelda gestured to her. The leader of the Western Thieves stood. "All of us have decided to return. We held our fortress long against the invaders, and we will not abandon our country now. There are nine thousand of us ready to fight."  
  
"Overall," Zelda concluded, "that brings us to a bit short of twenty thousand soldiers in all. Quite a force, but we know the Coughlians have at least that number, and probably quite a lot more."  
  
Link nodded. "That means that when we hit them, it has to be hard and fast. We win on the field, and we can advance to the Castle."  
  
"You see," Zelda continued, "We plan to meet them northeast of Hyrule Castle, just a few miles from the mouth of Gifster Canyon. If we can take the high ground, we should be able to cause them to break and scatter. That leaves the castle open to us, along with Ralkeen."  
  
"The theory is that if we can take out Ralkeen and this Inver Force thing he's been using, we can repel the invasion once and for all."  
  
Nabooru nodded. "And how can we take him out? I've never seen him on the front lines of anything. He seems the type who controls everything from the shadows so he stays out of danger."  
  
The warrior smiled. "I have a little experience with enemies like that. We need to work together to break his armies, but just leave Ralkeen to me."  
  
Malon, Weiun had noticed, was not one to leave a mystery unsolved. Ever. In the years he had known her, she had had an insatiable curiosity about most of the world, and would not let a question go unanswered, no matter what it took.  
  
Therefore, it did not surprise him in the least that she now would not let him alone about what he knew of her. She bombarded him with questions as to who her family had been, what her country had been like, who she had loved, who she had known, and so forth. Some of these questions were easier to answer than others, but Weiun did his best while trying not to lead her in any specific direction concerning their life together. However, she was beginning to remember.  
  
"Weiun?" Malon asked leaning forward on the bench as she stirred her cider. "How long have we known each other?"  
  
The young soldier frowned slightly. "Two years, maybe a bit longer. Why?"  
  
She shrugged. "It feels longer than that for some reason. As though. . . I don't know. But it feels longer than two years."  
  
Thar nodded, studying her as her eyes glazed over, searching for something inside her jumbled memories. "I wouldn't fret. This condition is supposed to be only temporary."  
  
Malon looked at him sternly. "Don't lie to me, Weiun Thar. I can tell when you are."  
  
Weiun smiled lopsidedly. "You always could. Look," he said slowly, running a hand through his hair, "there's no guarantee that you will retain any of your past memories, but we have every reason to hope. Some stuff has already come back, and that will probably keep up if we surround you with things and people that you knew."  
  
"You mean, you can stay with me?" she asked hopefully. "I don't know why, but. . . I. . . I want you to stay here. With me."  
  
Weiun grimaced. "I can't," he said after a while. "They want me as captain to command the cavalry when he strike against he Hylians. And I can't change their minds. But," he said, watching her face fall, "Bridon Girth will be able to stay with a small contingent to protect you. Just in case."  
  
"But, you will send word when you win your – I mean, our homeland back from the invaders, won't you?"  
  
The young man embraced her warmly, inhaling the fragrance of her hair, feeling its silken caress against his cheek. It had been to long since he had been able to hold her. Leaning back slightly, he looked into her radiant eyes, feeling as she brushed a stray lock away from his face. Suddenly, she leaned forward on her toes, and kissed him long on the lips.  
  
"For luck," she said, turning pink.  
  
Weiun smiled. "Thank you." 


	5. Chapter V: The Stand

Chapter V: The Stand  
  
Two shadowy figures emerged quietly from the newly excavated tunnel leading into Gifster Canyon. Both were lean and tall in appearance, long of hair and cloaked in black. The only discernable difference was the color their eyes caught in the crescent moon; one pair was an emerald green, the other a cold sapphire blue. Both paused just outside the tunnel, glancing left and right, searching for the sentries they were sure would be there. They found them. The two Coughlian soldiers on the rise never stood a chance. As their heads drooped and their eyes struggled to remain open, the two shadows slipped behind them and rendered them unconscious, dragging their limp forms back into the darkness. Seconds later, the two figures re-emerged, beckoning to someone or something behind them. The rebuilt Hylian army poured silently from the mouth of the tunnel, row upon row, column upon column of fully armed soldiers forming up along the walls of Gifster Canyon. At their head were King Gaerdon, Princess Zelda, Sir Link, Captain Weiun Thar, the lieutenants Karron, Portur, and Huff, and Nabooru. All were mounted, leading their horses to the only known exit from the canyon. The Pass of Iaord. Less than half a mile from the pass, Link held up a hand, and leapt nimbly from his horse, clambering briskly up the rocky wall of the canyon. As his eyes peeked over the edge, he inhaled sharply. Arrayed alongside the Coughlian army was a force of Wraiths, their unsleeping eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of a foe. They numbered merely in their hundreds, but they could easily alert the entire force of the Invaders to the Hylians' presence. Scowling hard, Link descended the canyon wall, dropping the last ten feet to land on all fours. "You were right," he said to Zelda as he mounted Epona and drew the Sacred Blade of Hyrule. "They have Wraiths watching every exit from the canyon, ready to sound the alarm if anything moves." "Can we still strike hard and fast enough if the Coughlians know the game is up too early?" Nabooru asked pointedly. Link frowned. "I doubt it. The Pass of Iaord is too narrow to move the army through with enough speed to engage the Coughlians if their pets sound the alarm." "Then we need a diversion," Weiun said, drawing his sword from atop his mount. "And that, I can do very well." The stallion pawed the ground and snorted nervously as Weiun led him toward the cavalry, as though the horse could sense that they were about to ride out on at best a fool's errand, and at worst, a suicidal one. And from the looks he saw on the soldiers' faces as he looked them up and down, they new it too. "It's been a long road for all of us," he said, addressing them for the first time since he had been given command. "And what we are about to do may well cost us our lives. The Coughlians have set up a battalion of Wraiths to guard the exit from the canyon, ready to alert and attack the moment the army emerges. The king has asked us to create a diversion and stall the Wraiths and possibly even the Coughlians long enough for the army to get clear of the canyon and flank them." He paused, surveying the mounted soldiers arrayed before him, his eyes lingering on the supportive faces of Portur, Karron, and Huff. "I'm sorry to have to ask this of anyone, especially of you. I have served with this army for a good many years, and you are good men and women, good soldiers, all of you." Weiun paused again, taking a deep breath. "However, I must ask this of you all the same: will you do this?" There was the briefest moment of silence, then Huff's voice rang out from the crowd. "Yo ho Sir!" "We'll follow you as far as we'd follow Link of the king himself!" Karron chimed in. "Let's show them what real Hylians are made of!" added Portur from the fore. There was an uproar of agreement from the ranks of the Hylian Cavalry, and soldiers shouted out or clashed shield against spear, steel against steel. If the Coughlians did not know trouble was on the way before, they did now. "Right!" Weiun said, holding up a hand, and turning his steed to face the exit of Gifster Canyon. "We make our stand now!"  
  
Colonel Paros Jakster of the 108th division of the Exalted Armed Forces of the Divinity of Coughl had had a decidedly good day. It had begun with an actual bath in the hot springs near the camp and a good breakfast "donated" by the wonderful locals of Hyrule, now under Coughlian rule. Practice had come and gone as usual, as well as regular patrols back and forth from His Excellency's castle informing Emperor Ralkeen that there was absolutely nothing on the border to be concerned about. Personally, Jakster didn't even see the point of keeping a full legion out near Gifster Canyon, even though the scouting party sent up north hadn't returned yet. There was no way the rebels would ever return, not after the sound drubbing they had received at the Battle of Iaord. But it did not matter. Even the infernal beasts that the Sovereign insisted on using as additional protection for the camp had not caused much trouble. The weather had been nice with just the right amount of breeze and sun, and there was the promise of a decidedly feminine form of entertainment during the evening. Adding to that the substantial pay raise due to the colonel's recent promotion, and, well. . . Yes, Jakster thought to himself as he doused his face in cold water to wash some of the day's filth away, it had been a good day indeed. He straightened his surcoat, sword belt, and helmet, and began to cross the camp for the final time before he retired for the night. "Colonel!" came a voice not far behind him. "Sir! There's something to the west that needs your immediate attention!" Jakster turned slightly, seeing a young corporal sprinting towards him. "This had better be good corporal," he said in his best be-careful- around-your-superior-officer voice. "It is sir," the younger soldier said, saluting sharply. "If you'll come with me?" Jakster nodded, and the corporal saluted again and started off at a brisk pace toward the western arm of the encampment. As they neared the edge of the camp, the colonel could hear the clash of arms and the unmistakable sounds that accompanied pitch battle. "What in hell is going on?" he asked furiously. "Where are the Wraiths?" "They're surrounded sir." "They're what?" "Surrounded sir," the corporal repeated. "I came for you as soon as the lookout alerted me." He swallowed hard. "What are we going to do sir?" Jakster's eyes turned cold. "Call all the men to arms. We're going to crush those damn rebels once and for all."  
  
"Are they going for it?" Weiun asked his first lieutenant as he brought his sword up diagonally, taking off the head of a Wraith at the shoulders. Huff squinted against the rising sun. "You could say that." Weiun followed Huff's gaze, and his face turned grim at the sight that awaited him. The entirety of the Coughlian army arrayed on the Steppes of Iaord had begun to move. "Right!" the young captain bellowed. "Swing east, flanking positions. Lances lowered and shields up. And hold the line. Ha!" Weiun kicked forward, and the rest of the cavalry followed suit, a line of seasoned warriors all riding toward the massed Coughlian force. There was no way that such a small band, no matter how well trained, could emerge victorious against so many. Weiun only hoped that he would be able to buy enough time for Link and the king to get the army clear of the canyon. Weiun drove the cavalry around toward the east, skirting the remaining Wraiths, which tried vainly to follow. Thar himself watched as Huff cut the last of them down in its tracks, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least the Coughlians were mortal. With a clash of steel and cries of pain, the two forces joined. The Hylians had the obvious advantage from their higher ground, greater speed, and superior reach, and it was proven as their lances pierced the Coughlian ranks and their mounts trampled overpowered soldiers. However, the Hylians were hopelessly outnumbered. Even as they seemed to gain the upper hand, the Coughlians sheer weight of numbers began to take its toll. Hylians soldiers were pulled from their horses and beset upon, some hacked long beyond death. Others were smote down by the tulwars and falchions of the Invaders, run through by their spears, or fell to their pikes. Weiun looked helplessly about as, all around him, his fellow freedom fighters were being cut down. He ducked a swing from a Coughlian soldier, struck down the wielder, kicked aside another, desperate to buy as much time as possible for Link and the others. I only hope they make it in time to save some of my men, he thought, watching sadly as Derk Calbron, a seasoned sergeant and good friend, was pulled from his mount by a dozen pikemen. "Left flank, reinforce the center spur!" he called, driving farther into the fray. "Cut them all down! Make your way to the camp! Find Ralkeen at all costs!" Weiun turned slightly to the south, searching for Karron or Portur. He saw them both surrounded by the Invaders, and raced to their aid. "Huff!" he cried, passing the lieutenant. "Follow me! The others are in trouble." Huff nodded. "7th unit, come with me. Everyone else, stay here, and hold them off as long as you can!" The two galloped madly toward the young soldiers, Huff's 7th unit forming a protective perimeter about them, cutting down any- and everyone that opposed them. Weiun urged his mount to go faster, panic etching his features as he saw Karron and Portur barely staying above the tumultuous, deadly wave. But they were running out of soldiers, and out of time. Suddenly, to Weiun's dismay, the two lieutenants disappeared under the roiling mass of the Coughlian army. "Halt!" Weiun cried, holding up a hand. "There's nothing else we can do." He looked about him, and saw more truth in his words than he knew. All around, the Hylian cavalry was being beaten down. It looked as though Ralkeen had won again.  
  
"They're going for it!" Link cried, squinting hard against the pre-dawn darkness. "Weiun's led them on a merry chase, and left more than enough room for us to leave the canyon. "What are we waiting for?" King Gaerdon asked. He turned toward the full mass of the Hylian army arrayed along Gifster Canyon. "This is the day you've all been waiting for!" he bellowed. "Today is our day. Let's go home!" Abandoning all pretense of stealth, the Hylian army surged from the canyon, the banners of the Shiekah, the Gerudos, and the Royal Family held high in the morning breeze. Link rode at the fore, the Sacred Blade of Hyrule gleaming in the rising sun, and the startled faces of the Coughlians reflected in his shield. Like a wave upon a quiet beach, the Hylian army crashed against the embattled Invaders, lifting the hearts of the Hylian cavalry on high and spurring them to incredible heights. The Second Battle of Iaord had begun. Link and Zelda, side by side, wove through the fray, guiding their mounts with their knees and ankles to leave both hands free for combat. Swiftly, they made their way to the place where Karron and Portur had fallen, and where Weiun and Huff still struggled against the vanguard of the Coughlians. "Where are Lynn and Jak?" Link asked Weiun as he muscled Epona through the press of battle. "They fell," came the strangled answer. Weiun looked at Link, and the knight could see the pain behind the young lieutenant's eyes. "Just there. There was nothing I could do." Link nodded, spurring his horse toward the spot that Weiun had indicated. His blade licked out, flashing brilliantly in the sun, carefully striking down enemy after enemy. However, many that fell were not dead, but merely wounded. Wherever he could, Link spared life, showing mercy even to those who had taken so much from him and his loved ones. He reached the grassy knoll to find two riderless horses, and a mass of soldiers through which he could still see a single Hylian blade. The last Knight of Hyrule sprang from his horse, abandoning his shield and pulling his Knight's Sword from its scabbard by his side. The dual blades smote down anything in their path, passing through the Coughlians like so many blades of grass. He reached the Hylian sword, and its wielder, and sorrow touched his face. Karron was still alive, though a deep gash ran from one shoulder to the wrist. However, Lieutenant Jak Portur was beyond any mortal help. Link looked at the face of his friend, then helped Karron, still fighting through tears of grief, back to the main force. Once, in the struggle, Link caught sight of Nabooru commanding a squad of Gerudos, their bows and scimitars lighting fast, dealing swift death to the Invaders. Others of the Desert Thieves were woven into the Hylian force, one-time enemies now fighting a greater foe. It was a sight to behold, amidst the chaos of the battle, pressed against he enemy so close that only melee combat was possible, and still, the Hylians held their ground. Link caught sight of the Sacred Triangles, the Red Eye of the Shiekah, banners fluttering in the wind, bolstering the troops to new heights. Zelda and Weiun were at his side as he reached the king. "How goes it?" the grey monarch asked from astride his own stallion. "The western spur may weaken and buckle in time," Link answered. "But with a little creative thinking, it can be strengthened. They may not expect a breach from that direction." "Do it. This is where the victor shall be decided." Link saluted, and was off, spurring Epona through the massed bodies. It was then that he caught sight of the Wraiths. They had come, in the tens of thousands, their unearthly sounds reverberating through the canyon, the Steppes of Iaord, and the plains beyond. Link watched in horror as they thundered toward the Hylian army. "Link!" Zelda cried from beside him. "We have to retreat. The canyon is our only way of escape." The last Knight of Hyrule threw a glance back at the king. Gaerdon sat proud and strong, his sword in hand, his banner flying above him. Link knew the man's mind as though he could see into it. "No," he responded, shaking his head. "There will be no retreat. This is our stand, and, win or lose, this is where we stay. Form back!" he called to the troops. Those who heard him leapt back from the enemy's reach, the lances, pikes and spears coming up, a fence of death against the Coughlians and their monstrosities. Moments later, the Wraiths were upon them, and it was as though a storm had broken. But it was no storm. From the south came a hail of arrows, green fletched, small for a Hylian, but each and ever one struck their mark. More and more came, filling the sky with emerald rain, pouring death into the Wraiths as the tips pierced their blackened hearts. A great cheer rose from the Hylians. The Forrest Children had joined the battle. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, seeming to merge with the fields themselves, impossible targets for the Coughlian archers. They rushed the invaders, a steely determination pulsing through them that stunned the enemy in their tracks. Link grinned like a giddy child at the sight of the Kokiri rushing toward the battle. Their shafts struck true, their spears caught the Coughlians unawares and below their guard, and Mido, at their fore, wielded the Blade of the Forest with a ferocity to match the shadowy foe. The tide of battle had turned. The Wraiths were cut down, destroyed with no mercy as such dark things deserved. Their cries filled the air, and it was Weiun Thar himself who slew the last of them, watching as it crumpled before him. The Coughlians were forced steadily back, and to the east, until they had been backed to the very edge of Gifster Canyon. Their numbers now were woefully small, their formation broken and scattered, and their secret weapon crushed. They had one option left to them, save death. Link saw a flutter of white caught in the morning breeze, and his voice rose on high above the pitch of battle. "Halt! Cease Fire!" The Kokiri, Hylians, and Gerudos responded in kind. Link made his way to the front of the Hylian forces, the King and Princess right behind him. Epona halted, and he waited. An officer came forth from the ranks of the Coughlians, pale of face and dark of hair. He spoke with a voice of authority, but in a tone that defined a man who knows when he is beaten. "Sir!" he called as the King approached. "As an officer and a gentleman, I, Colonel Paros Jakster of the 108th division of the Exalted Armed Forces of the Divinity of Coughl, do hereby surrender unconditionally to Your Majesty." He held out his sword, the blade gleaming dully in the morning haze. The king regarded him for a moment, then took the sword, and saluted. The noise that rose from the Allies threatened to split the heavens. 


	6. Chapter VI: The Dark Before the Dawn

They did not bring horses. Those would make too much noise and bee too easy to track. They did not take armor. It would only slow them down, and they wanted speed. Zelda carried the Sword of the Old King, and was garbed in the clothing of a Shiekah. Link took his Knight's Sword, the Sacred Blade of Hyrule, and a new green cap. He had dressed himself once again in the plain green attire of the Kokiri, and allowed Zelda to take a knife to his overgrown hair. Now, he looked just as he had when he had faced Ganon, with the exception of the scar and his black cloak, and the look in his eyes. Then, he had still been a child. Now, he was not. Once they had used Zelda's Ocarina of Time to warp to the Temple of Time, getting to the Castle Keep itself was not that hard. Apparently, Korvin Ralkeen was not expecting company from so small an attack force. Link and Zelda vowed to make him regret his overconfidence. The two darted toward the large gates of the Keep, staying well- hidden in the shadows provided by overgrown vegetation, clustered boulders, and other signs of Ralkeen's inhabitation. Slipping silently into the moat, the two entered the Keep through the same means that Link had used nearly twelve years earlier to see the mysterious child princess who would give him a mission to save the world. The same drainage duct that had allowed them access on the near-disastrous mission to retrieve the Master Sword. Link loosened his blades in their sheathes. He had all but lost Zelda that day. As he gazed upon her beauty, her grace, he vowed that she would live through the day. Once out of the ducts, the two heroes were finally noticed. Not that it did the Coughlians much good. The guards died silently and quickly, and the two moved on. They did not bother to sneak in through a window. Ralkeen would know that they were coming, they would make sure of it. When they reached the front doors of the Keep, the two soldiers stationed there snapped to attention. "Halt! Who goes there?" one bellowed. "Declare your name and business, in the name of His Excellency, Sovereign Korvin Ralkeen!" the other barked. Link and Zelda exchanged glances, then struck them down. Link stared at the door, clenched a fist, and moments later the solid oak was reduced to ash and splinters. Once inside, they ran. Speed was still of the essence. Even the best of soldiers could be overcome by numbers, and the heroes knew that. Their best bet on defeating Ralkeen was to reach him and do so quickly. Along the way, more guards accosted them. Link and Zelda smote them so that they were cast aside like so many straws. It was not long before they reached the Throne Room. The sight of the Royal Seat was a shock to both of the infiltrators. Unlike the destruction of the Imprisoning War and the carnage of the dark and twisted Link years ago, there was almost a sense of elegance to the place. Many of the tapestries passed down by the Royal Family were still hanging, though some had been taken down and replaced with ones that depicted the Inver Force, or the Allies' defeat at the Steppes of Iaord and Hyrule Castle. However, it was night, and the torches still lent an eerie reddish glow to everything. Even the white marble pillars looked ominous in the haze. And in the center of it all, clad in crimson and black, sitting atop a marble throne with a twisted scepter in his hand, was Korvin Ralkeen.  
  
"I must admit," he said softly, "that for an upstart girl princess and a ragged, common knight, you two have caused me quite a bit of trouble." His lips curved cruelly into what could almost be mistaken for a smile. "But make it easy on yourselves and give up now. Two such fine specimens. . . it would truly be a shame to have to destroy you." Link kept his face blank, willed his rising anger with the Warlord to stay inside. "I will say this once Ralkeen," he said, drawing the Master Sword. "Leave now, and never come back, and you will live. You have my word as a Knight of the Goddesses, Ganon's Bane, and the Hero of Time that I will let you pass if you go. If you stay, I will have no choice but to destroy you." Ralkeen's lips stretched wider. "Bold words. I must say that I'm impressed, boy. But you have no idea what you face. I hold in my hand the power of the Inver Force. I could kill you now before you knew what hit you." Beside Link, Zelda laughed. "Ha! You couldn't kill Link if he used his right hand and a blindfold. He is the greatest swordsman that Hyrule has ever seen. You stand no chance." The Warlord dropped his smile like a hot coal and his eyes turned to ice. "I do not believe that I was talking to you girl. And I would advise you not to insult me again." "Oh really?" The Princess's eyes matched the temperature of Ralkeen's. "I am Crown Princess Zelda, heir to the thrown of Hyrule, and it puts me out that one so despicable as you has laid claim to my father's thrown. He should have killed you when he had the chance." Ralkeen sighed. "Oh well. I did warn you." And with that, he pointed his scepter at her. There was no flash of energy, no showy explosion, nothing except for a slight glowing black aura surrounding gem at the scepter's center. Then Zelda flew back with a scream, slamming against a wall with a bone- shattering crash. Only then did the residual shockwave hit Link, sweeping his cap off his head and forcing him to drop to one knee to keep from being blown over. "You see?" the Warlord said to Link with a relishing smile. "You haven't the slightest chance of competing with my power. Now see the fate of those who resist me." He pointed his scepter again. "No!" Link shouted, flinging himself between Ralkeen and the Princess. "This fight shall stay between us. No one else, not even Zelda, will be involved." He brought his weapons up. "Unless you don't think you can take me." The Warlord sneered. "For a parentless peasant, you sure are an irritating thorn in my side. Very well, I shall show you the full extent of my mastery of the Inver Force before I kill you both." Without warning, there was a flash of light, black, warped, twisted radiance that seared itself into Link's eyes. All around him, he heard the cracking of stone, the crumbling of mortar. He could feel the castle shaking, trying to tear itself apart. Link struggled to keep his footing as the flagstones beneath his feet shifted and splintered, grinding violently against each other. He tried desperately to see, though spots danced in front of his eyes. He did not see the Warlord's blow until it was too late.  
  
Ralkeen struck the Hero of Time with his scepter hard, causing Link to fly back as Zelda had done, but Link stayed pinned to the wall, an unseen force pushing him into the splintering stone. Through the smoke and destruction, Ralkeen strode, black cloak sweeping behind him dramatically. Upon his scepter glowed three triangles, blackened, charred, and points down. "The. . . Inver. . . Force," Link managed through gritted teeth. "That's right," the Warlord said mockingly. "It took me six years to harness the twisted power of your precious Tri Force into something I could use to my own ends. The end result is what you see before you." "Why?" "Because it is my right!" he shrieked. "I was Gaerdon's cousin, and was in line for the throne. Then he had that damned daughter, and named her his heir. A woman! This throne is mine, hero." "I have stood before evil before, Ralkeen, and I have not lost yet. I have looked into myself and conquered my demons, looked out and conquered your armies, and now all I must do is clean up the remnants." Link had expected the Warlord to strike him at those words, but was astounded. Ralkeen laughed. "Let me tell you a story about heroes, Sir Link." He spat out the word 'sir' like bitter ale. "Long ago, when I was searching for the makings of my power, I came across a village in the mountains to the north of Hyrule. There, there lived a warrior tribe with the most remarkable fighting skills I have ever seen. Their weapons were of particular interest to me, as they could, when wielded correctly, shatter even the hardest steel. I wanted the metal, but they refused to accommodate me. So I wiped them out." Link scowled. A warrior tribe. . . "Ah, recognition dawns on even the most dim of minds. Yet, it was Siryn Emroth where I found my metal, so to speak. They really did cause quite a problem. There was a certain man especially, who rallied their forces against me while the others destroyed their precious weapons. I remember him quite vividly. Flowing blond hair, dangerous grey eyes, about your height and build. But his wife was even more of a problem." Link struggled vainly against the force pinning him to the wall, face contorted with fury. "After I killed him, I went after her. You see, she had taken their last sword and fled, wanting to protect their sacred craft. . . and her unborn child." Link roared with anger, trying desperately to reach the Warlord. Ralkeen only laughed again. "She managed to escape, but I tracked her southward through Hyrule, but I lost her at the edge of a forest. But not before I gave her a death wound." Link's breath caught in his throat, his mouth forming silent words. After a while, he managed a single word: "Mother." "You know, I think you may be right," Ralkeen said with a cold smile. "I never did find out what happened to my sword, but, as you can see, my Inver Force is powerful enough made of earthly metals. So you see, that is what happens to heroes, knight. They die, and only their murderers remember them."  
  
"You know," Ralkeen said, "that wench on the floor who calls herself a princess might also qualify as a hero. What do you think? Should I extend your fate to her?" He turned back to face the Hero of Time, and is face froze. Link was pulsing with power, a restrained energy that sprang from his anger, his hatred, and his rage. A breeze from the shattered walls stirred his hair, his clothes, filling the folds of Ralkeen's cloak. His fists clenched and unclenched, lips curled back over bared ivory teeth. But the thing that scared Ralkeen the most about the boy were his eyes. The pupils were a deep blood red, with no black in them whatsoever. Ralkeen took a step back, and the floor cracked. Link let loose an unearthly scream, his energy rippling in waves about him, a stark crimson iridescence that threatened envelope not only the Warlord, but the Hero of Time as well. Even worse, however, was when Link spoke. "You will not touch her," came a deep throated, feral growl. Then his eyes locked with Ralkeen's and the wall he was pressed against shattered into dust. Ralkeen could scarcely believe his eyes as Link strode toward him. The full power of the Inver Force had been pinning Link to the wall, and the boy had just brushed it aside. He backpedaled, and his eyes lit upon the door. He ran for it. Link moved too, faster than the other could see, standing in front of Ralkeen even as the Warlord stopped dead in his tracks. "You wanted to fight me," the Hero said fiercely. "Why are you running? Or are you truly that big a coward." Ralkeen bristled, raising his scepter. "Very well, boy. You shall feel my full destructive power." He muttered a single word, and his scepter flashed black, its shape warping before his eyes. A moment later, he held a terrible and twisted sword, black as pitch, serrated, spiked, as evil as Ralkeen himself. Link only smiled. "Why do you smile?" Ralkeen asked wrathfully. "You stand before me with no sword and a beaten body." In answer, Link stretched out his left hand, and into its grip flew the Master Sword. "Now," he said, still smiling that terrible smile, "let us dance." What a dance it was. The shattered walls of the throne room echoed with the clash and scrape of steel against steel. Ralkeen was indeed good, excellent, possibly the most skilled opponent Link had ever faced. But Link was who he was. He was the Hero of Time, Knight of the Goddesses, and he was driven by a fury born of the desire to protect the one he loved. His eyes flashed crimson in the waned light, cap gone, hair flying about his head, the Master Sword moving at a speed to boggle the mind. Ralkeen was taken aback, that much was obvious. He could not have expected this new surge of power from his opponent. In fact, Link could not have expected this either. It scared him, on some level, deep down, and he knew in his heart that he had finally given in to the rage that burned inside him. He had thrown away his training with Master Jairuss, his control, his edge, for raw strength, and was now driven by madness. He did not care. "You're good," Ralkeen said, panting as he block and upward thrust from the Sacred Blade of Hyrule. "I admit I underestimated you slightly. However," he continued, levering his own sword, and striking, "you're not good enough!" The shock rang through Link's blade, shaking it loose from his grasp so that the following blow from Ralkeen's Inver Force tore it from his grasp. The Master Sword sailed through the air, and clattered upon the stones, far out of reach. Still Link fought on, but he had no reach. Hand to hand was practically useless against his opponent, and, try as he might, he could not get to a blade. Finally, the Warlord landed a sharp kick to his sternum, and Link went down hard, sliding along the floor of the throne room. Ralkeen strode over to where the Hero of Time had fallen, his eyes gleaming fiercely with triumph. "You see, boy? I have the powers of a god in my hand, and you think you can defeat me with a puny sword and a bit of hotheadedness? You are weak, nothing, worthless, and I shall be sure to kill you slowly for your insolence. But first," he added, his lips twisting into his cruel smile, "you shall watch the princess die as you lie pinned to the floor, helpless." The Warlord raised his blade, a mad light in his eyes, and stuck with all his might. The sword made no sound as it cut the air, descending toward Link, then it stopped. Ralkeen's mad eyes opened wide in disbelief. In two pressed palms, Link held the Inver Force. A slight trickle of blood ran down his wrist, but the blade had stopped inches before striking him. "I told you," he said hoarsely, "you will not touch her, and I will kill you for what you have done."  
  
Slowly, Link pushed the blade of the Warlord up, up, rising with it, following the Inver Force until he was nose to nose with Ralkeen. His eyes flashed, and he screamed. Ralkeen flew back, the burst of energy from the Hero of Time throwing him to the floor. Link began to stride toward him, his face etched in stone, his eyes frozen in blue ice. He held out his hand again, and again, a sword flew to meet it. But this time, it was not the Master Sword. The Sword of the Old King landed in the Hero of Time's grip, its rune- traced blade crackling with dancing light along the length of the forged metal. A surge of it jumped off of the blade and hit Link full force in the forehead. "Remember," said a voice from inside of him, "you must not let your hatred drive you. Do not become that which you fight against, or your fight is all for naught." Link looked at the sword again, the gleaming steel blade, the silvery runes, the stiffened leather wrapping of a relatively untried sword. And yet he had found it in a centuries-old temple, guarded by a thousand-year dead monarch. Guarded yes, but owned, wielded? He looked at the blade again. There were no scratches, no notches, no blemishes of any kind to mar its perfect surface. A sword that had lain dormant for years, true, but how many? "You see, she had taken their last sword and fled, wanting to protect their sacred craft. . . and her unborn child," Ralkeen's voice sounded in his head. "She managed to escape, but I tracked her southward through Hyrule, but I lost her at the edge of a forest." Unborn child. Stolen sword. She had hidden it to keep their craft safe. Where had she hidden it? Somewhere where she would be sure it would be kept safe until one of her bloodline came to retrieve it. Perhaps even her unborn child. The Sword of the Old King. The one blade that had stood against the Master Sword when the Sacred Blade of Hyrule had been wielded at full power. It all made sense. This was the sword Link's mother had taken when she fled, had hidden in the temple guarded by a ghostly monarch, before giving her child into the care of the Kokiri. His mother's sword, his father's sword, Link's sword. The last sword of his people. Ralkeen only stared at the naked blade in the Hero of Time's hands. "That. . . that blade," he managed. "It. . . it can't be." "Oh yes," Link replied, raising his blade, "it can. It is." Then, he brought down hell. Link had learned much from Jairuss Marto. Not just the beginnings of his parentage, but of skill, will, and strength of heart. He fought, and kept his rage in check, feeling the burning hatred want to rush out of him again, but always staying one step ahead of it. He struck the Inver Force of Korvin Ralkeen again and again, the runes of his sword merging and melding into and out of each other as lighting danced upon the blade. I must not let my rage take me, he kept telling himself, forcing Ralkeen ever backward. For the first time since the defeat at the Steppes of Iaord, Link felt a surge of hope.  
  
Ralkeen did not know what to make of the boy. He had had the cur beaten, down on the floor or pinned against the wall, and both times the bothersome thorn had broken free, and now had won the advantage. It made no sense. He, Korvin Ralkeen, had the dark power of the gods, and all the boy possessed was a decent sword. And yet, there was something else. When he had broken the spell that had pinned him against the wall, when he had stopped the full power of the Inver Force with only his hands. It was something about the boy's eyes, those sapphire orbs that at the moment seemed so cold, but had flamed with a fury that Ralkeen had never seen before. There was something in those windows that scared Ralkeen. It scared him very much. In fact, Ralkeen was very afraid. He had not lost to any one man since his defeat all those years ago, when he and his followers had been driven from his homeland. Then, Gaerdon, curse the feeble old man, had been using the Master Sword. Ralkeen's blade had broken, and he had been cast down. That would not happen again. The Warlord put every ounce of strength and skill be possessed into the duel, drawing on the power from the mighty weapon he had created. His blade pulsed black, and sparks from it caught fire. The wind whipped at his cloak, fanning it behind him as he turned aside attack after attack sent him by the boy. And all for naught. His power dissipated when it left the Inver Force, as though something or someone was merely taking it and storing it away. It certainly did no harm to his opponent, and the pace was starting to wear on the older man. Ralkeen was indeed a warrior. He fought with every ounce of strength he possessed, pushing himself to the limit of his abilities. His speed, his skill, his finesse, his power, all were thrown at the boy he fought. But in the end, he went down. Too fast for him to see, let alone counter, the boy slid past his guard, hooked his blade, and tossed it aside, sending it spinning across the throne room to land in the dirt. In the same movement, his adversary spun, and kicked him. The boot landed solidly in Ralkeen's gut, and he flew. The next thing he knew, he was in the courtyard outside of the throne room, gazing at a jagged hole in the wall. He hurt like he could not describe, and through the haze of pain, through the falling dust from the destroyed wall, he saw a figure striding towards him. Link looked down upon the fallen Warlord, the Sword of the Old King resting against his throat, his face still impassive. "It's over Ralkeen. You are beaten. Now leave." Ralkeen laughed. "I admit, you have me at a disadvantage. However," he continued with his best cruel smile, "that in no way means that I am beaten. You see, you kicked me through the wrong wall." His foot swung around, catching the boy's, throwing him over, and Ralkeen slipped past the sword, grabbed his arm, and threw him. Then, the Warlord ran. It only took the boy a moment to regain his footing and follow, but that moment was all Ralkeen needed. In that moment, he had made it to the shattered wall, and pulled the Inver Force from the rubble. Then he turned. Then, everything slowed down. He saw the boy coming at him, the Sword of the Old King swept back behind him, that fire in his eyes. Lightning crackled along the blade, the runes flashed a blazing blue. Ralkeen swung his blade to block the stroke that came toward him. . . And the Inver Force turned to dust. Link's sword met the blade, and simply pushed through, and Ralkeen found himself holding fine sand that slipped rapidly through his fingers. Once again, the tip of the sword rested lightly at Ralkeen's throat. "I warned you, Ralkeen." "Then finish if, boy," the Warlord spat. "I'd do the same if I were you. Just like I killed your father." The face remained impassive, but the eyes flared. "That's right, I know you. The spawn of their loins come to bring me down. How wonderfully ironic for me. But you know something? I won't beg for mercy before I die, like he did." The eyes blazed. Ralkeen smiled wider. "Say hello to him won't you?" With that, the knife he had been easing his hand toward sprang from his boot, and leapt at Link's chest. Then it stopped. Link's eyes fired ruby red, and flames leapt about him, extending from his very being. The fire burned hotter, brighter, 'till it was a deep red gold, a ball of radiance that extended from the Hero of Time. Ralkeen screamed. Then, there was a deafening explosion.  
  
When the smoke cleared, Link stood in the courtyard, or what was left of it, the charred remains of the Warlord Korvin Ralkeen at his feet. Zelda looked at her love, her eyes bleary with pain, a cut running down the side of her head still oozing blood. As she watched, Link sank to his knees, the Sword of the Old King falling to the scorched earth. "Link!" she cried, sprinting haphazardly to his side. She reached him just in time to catch him as he fell. "I did it," he said quietly, gazing into her eyes. "I finally beat him. It's our home again." "Yes, you won." She smiled. "I knew you would." Link shook his head, blinked, and went rigid. "Zelda," he rasped, "it's time." "What?" she said, startled. "Kill me," he answered. "Now. There isn't much time." "I can't. I won't. Why?" she cried. "Link, why, when we've finally won?" "I let myself hate him. I hated him so much that I used my feelings, and I utterly destroyed him. Nothing left. And it was the worst mistake I ever made." He swallowed hard, clutching her hand. "You have to kill me, now, or I will turn into him." Zelda knew what he meant by 'him.' The sneering visage of Link's dark side haunted her in her darkest nightmares. "I'm sorry Link. I can't do it. I can't kill the man I love, no matter what he may become." Link tried to respond, but then, he screamed. It was a sound unlike any Zelda had ever heard, a tortured scream from the pits of hell, one ripped from the throat of a dying man. Hearing her love utter such a scream made her want to weep, but still she held on. Slowly, the scream died away, to be replaced by a deep rumbling beneath her feet. She felt herself being lifted up, high above the ground, and she looked upon the courtyard below, black, dead, surrounded by the mangled castle. It was only after that that she dared look at Link. He was changing. There was no other word for it. It was what must have happened to his other self that had stolen the Master Sword after witnessing the death of his loved one. Link was surrounded by a black aura, pulsing, much like the Inver Force had when it had been wielded by Korvin Ralkeen. His eyes burned red, his mouth in a grimace of pain. He did not speak, could not, his features etched in agony. Zelda knew what was happening. The Darkness inside him had finally won, broken through the barriers that Jairuss had helped to erect, coaxed out by Ralkeen's taunts and deeds. It was one time too many. The Tri Force of Power had taken complete hold of him, and now, he would desire only power, only order, ruthless order, the order of death to all who opposed him. She wept freely, her tears streaming down her face to fall upon his chest where she buried her head. She would not kill him. She could not, not after having come so far with him, after having loved him so long and so dearly, and more than he would have harmed her. She knew he would kill her. He would not be able to control his emotions. But she would be with him to the end, that she promised. The end, she could tell, was coming. Link's hair shifted ever gradually darker until it was a hellish auburn, his scar going deeper into his face, his face changing ever so slightly, still registering pain, still contorted with repressed fury, but becoming sharper, fiercer, colder. Then, suddenly, he looked at her, and the true battle began. It was not a battle of swords, or a conflict of magic. It was a struggle inside Link himself. She could see it in his eyes. The mixed emotions of uncontrollable rage and his love for her, his concern and his desire for domination, death and destruction. But still she held on. "It's okay Link," she said softly through the tears, through the roaring of the earth below them. "I understand. I'm sorry that this had to happen to us. But know," she wiped her tears, sniffing audibly, "know that I still love you. I always have. I always will. That's a promise, no matter what happens." The battle raged. His hands clenched into fists, energy gathering there that could incinerate her as it had Ralkeen, and she knew that, if Link lost, his darker side would do it with no qualms. But she was where she felt safest in all the world, and she was not moving. She simply stood there, hovering with her love in the air, pressed against his chest, tears falling lightly onto him from her sky-blue eyes. She felt herself growing steadily warmer as Link lost a little more of his self to the Tri Force of Power. Zelda merely held him tighter. He had held on this long. Perhaps there was still hope. "It's alright, Link. I know you can overcome this. You always have. It is what you are; the champion of light, the enemy of darkness, the Hero of Time. The darkness cannot overcome you unless you allow it to." She sighed into his tunic. "Triumph, my love." She kissed him softly. Then, there was a deafening explosion.  
  
Zelda opened her eyes, then closed them again. Bright light crowded in behind her lids, a white glow that permeated everything around her. She cracked her lids, squinting against the brightness, and realized she was holding onto something. She looked up into Link's smiling face. "How did you get here?" she asked curiously. He only smiled. "Where are we? This doesn't look like the Heavenly Plane. There's nothing here." Link stroked her hair softly. "There's plenty here. Everything in fact." Zelda frowned. "What do you mean?" "Well, perhaps not everything," came a voice from everywhere around her. "But the creators of all you know." The princess's jaw dropped. "Din? Nayru? Fayore?" "Yes," replied the voice/voices. "Then. . . is this the Afterworld?" Link hazarded. All three voices laughed as one, literally. "No. You are not dead. We merely wanted to express our gratitude." There was a slight pause. "And to ask if there was anything we could do to repair you." Link blinked. "To reward. . . us?" He got the distinct impression of three faces nodding simul- taneously. "We are goddesses after all." Link looked at Zelda, and she only raised her eyebrows as if to say, 'Well, you're the Hero of Time, not me.' He pursed his lips, thinking hard, and answering at last only slowly. "Your Holinesses, all I have done these past twelve years I did because it was my duty, not just as a destined hero, but as a person who had the power to make a difference in a world beset by evil, and for that, I ask no reward. You have given Zelda and me a second chance as it is by bringing her back after the incident with the Master Sword, and there nothing higher than that that you could ever to for me. "However," he continued, "for the past two years, I have carried with me a power that was never mine, never a part of me, that I was never meant to control, and it almost killed Zelda. If that ever happened again, I would never forgive myself. All I ask, Your Holinesses, is, if it is in your power, to return the Tri Force of Power to from whence it came." The Three Golden Goddesses laughed, and it was glorious. "You are indeed a hero, Sir Link. We can indeed grant your request, and shall. The Tri Force of Power shall trouble you no more." Of a sudden, Link's hand glowed a blinding gold, light emanating from his hand to drown out even the pure white of the Holy Realm. Link and Zelda both shut their eyes, feeling warmth spread through them both, and it felt as though a hurricane raged, such was the force of the whirlwind that whipped about them. Then, it was over, and they were back in the Castle Courtyard. But it was different. The wall was not destroyed, the Castle no longer warped and twisted to suit Ralkeen's sadistic design. It was as if the war with the Divinity of Coughl had never happened at all, save for the massive loss of life on both sides, and the scars that Link and Zelda both carried. They opened their eyes, realizing that they were still holding each other, as they had been when they had been transported. They looked at each other, smiled, and kissed. They did not pull apart for a very long time.  
  
  
  
  
  
I hope you guys liked it. The epilogue is coming in a couple days. Please review, and peace out. 


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue  
  
It was the next day that the Hylian soldiers of the Coughlian War, along with the former Coughlians themselves, and the residents of Hyrule who could attend, gathered in the Great Square of Hyrule Castle. It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, avoiding easily the wispy clouds that streaked across the sky, as an unseasonably cool breeze stirred the grasses and leaves. The King had been giving an oration in celebration of the victory and the reclaiming of Hyrule, and nearly the entire nation had turned out to hear it. Sir Link stepped into the sun from underneath a white marble archway, taking a moment to let the cool winds ruffle his hair and sweep across his face. It felt good just to stand on Hyrule soil, his home in upbringing if not birth, and not have to worry about the war. He sighed, and a small smile crossed his lips. "Something wrong?" Zelda asked from beside him. She had always been good at reading his moods. "Not really. It's just that. . ." The Hero of Time paused, trying to put words to emotions. "It feels strange, empty somehow, to know that my parents are both dead, and that I never knew their names. The Deku Tree told me about my mother, but - " She gave him a sympathetic glance. "But you thought that your father might have lived." Link sighed again. "I know it's stupid, but. . . I had hoped. And now, I don't even know who they were." "Jairuss didn't know?" He shook his head, blond locks falling in front of his eyes. "Either that or he couldn't, or wouldn't, tell me." Link's lips pursed, and he blinked slowly. "It doesn't matter, not now." He gave Zelda a sidelong look coupled with a wry smile. "You'd better hurry, or you'll be late." Zelda did a double take toward the Great Square, returned Link's smile, and began the long walk to the raised platform to stand beside her father. Link breathed in the cool winds and the warm sun, once more, and followed her. The Hero of Time, clad in the royal blue tabard of a Hylian Knight, emblazoned with the Tri Force overlaid by a crimson phoenix, strode along the path cleared by the parted crowds. On his back was the Master Sword, the shield of the Knights hooked to the sheath, his hair loose, free to blow in the wind. The gathered peoples of Hyrule erupted with cheers, the likes of which had not been heard since the end of the Unification Wars over eight hundred years ago. Gathered there were the aquatic and shimmering Zora, the heavy, dusty Gorons, the slim, fierce Gerudos, the jubilant Hylians, and the mysterious Shiekah. The only race missing from the gathering were the Kokiri, the protection the Great Deku Tree had been able to erect for them having expired. His boots making hardly a sound on the stone, he ascended the dais in perfect timing with King Gaerdon's pause in his speech. "And here," the King said as Link stepped up beside him, opposite Princess Zelda, "is a man who needs no introduction, and who deserves all our gratitude. It was Sir Link who rallied our armies to return, led the final charge against the Coughlians in the Second Battle of Iaord, and finally, defeated the Warlord Korvin Ralkeen in this very castle." The crowd went wild. "And furthermore," Gaerdon continued when the noise had died away to the point that he could be heard again, "Sir Link, the last of the Royal Knights of Hyrule, has shown time and time again over the past twelve years that he can stand against any foe that evil can concoct, and best them. The Imprisoning War, the theft of the Master Sword, all threats have been turned aside. Whether acting by himself or in concert with my daughter, he has done greater deeds than any other in the past eight hundred years. Therefore, I hereby award Sir Link, Champion of the Realm, the highest medal Hyrule has to offer; the Crest of Valor." Gaerdon turned amidst the cheering, embraced Link, and brought forth a fine gold chain on which had been hung an intricately designed phoenix, a sword clutched in its claws, and the Tri Force set against a sun burst behind it. Reverently, the aged king hung the chain about Link's neck, stepped back, and grasped his hand. "You have given me hope for the world my daughter lives in, Sir Link. That is the greatest gift that you can give to a father, and so I embrace you as a son." Link smiled. "Don't regret saying that, Your Majesty." He turned to the honor guard and nodded to Weiun Thar. "Commander Weiun Thar, would you please come forth." "Would you allow me an honor, Your Majesty?" Link asked as Weiun approached. The King of Hyrule nodded, and Link spoke it in his ear. Gaerdon gave a small smile from behind his beard as Weiun stepped up to the dais. "Weiun Thar," Link said in a voice that reached all, "please kneel." The young soldier did so, a slight questioning look in his eyes as he glanced at Link. "For years, the Royal Knights of Hyrule guarded the realm from evil and injustice. The most elite of soldiers, they fought with skill unequalled on the battlefield, and showed compassion unequalled in spirit. However, during the first war with the Divinity of Coughl, they fell defending Hyrule, and I alone remain as the last of their order." Link looked at Weiun. "I believe it is time that the order be rebuilt, and I can think of no other better suited to be a Royal Knight of Hyrule better than Weiun Thar." The Hero of Time unsheathed the Master Sword and, using the flat of the blade, tapped Weiun once on each shoulder, and once on the forehead, as the ceremony had been performed on him those years ago. With that, Link sheathed the Sacred Blade. "And now, rise Sir Weiun Thar, Royal Knight of Hyrule," said he, embracing his compatriot. The crowd seemed to never tire of cheering. Link turned once again to Gaerdon. "And now, there is one final favor that I would ask, Your Majesty. Would you, if it is her wish, allow the Princess Zelda and me to marry?" "With my blessing!" the king bellowed. The Hero of Time knelt before the Crowned Princess of Hyrule, his eyes bright. "Zelda, would you have me as your husband?" She smiled. "With all my heart." They embraced, and kissed. Obligingly, the crowd erupted in vocal jubilance, again. "So," Zelda whispered to Link so that only he could hear, "when do I get to become a knight?" Link smiled. "Beat my at sword work, and then we'll see." Zelda grinned back at him, and held him, as he held her, and the breeze blew around them. Up, up it rose, high over the castle, far above Hyrule to where a smiling fairy and a wise old owl hovered, and, seeing that, at the moment, all was right with the kingdom, flew east, towards the sun.  
  
  
  
  
  
Here ends the Heroes Trilogy. 


End file.
